


Penitent Sinner

by Nymeria_Snow



Series: Poetry of Dragon Age [8]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Desire, F/M, Forbidden Love, Love, Loyalty, Poetry, Prayer, Regret, Sinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-17 01:03:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12354186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nymeria_Snow/pseuds/Nymeria_Snow
Summary: This poem is inspired by a touching one shot of Cullen praying in Skyhold's Chantry 'Maker, see me kneel' written by Ilyasviel :) I hope, she'll like it... and there's a piccollage bellowAnd once again thanks TurboNerd for her tremendous help.





	Penitent Sinner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ilyasviel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilyasviel/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Maker, see me kneel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11985633) by [Ilyasviel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilyasviel/pseuds/Ilyasviel). 



In the temple’s heavy silence,

The solemn knight kneels,

His heart seeks balance,

For forgiveness he appeals.

 

Bleeding, deeply buried memories,

A raw, everlasting pain he longs to ease.

It burdens his exacerbated mind,

for the world is anything but kind.

 

The torturous pain he suffered left him blind,

The feeling of purpose made a strong bind.

He served an order that commanded him to kill,

And he didn’t hesitate to swallow such a bitter pill.

 

Again and again he overcame demons of all sorts,

Yet in vain he searched for needed restful ports.

He failed to protect his defenceless wards,

He didn’t trust their sincere, pleading words.

 

Through his Commander’s severe crime, 

He saw his wrongness just in time.

He fought fiercely and he fought hard,

Determined to play his crucial part.

 

He helped to cast the fair usurper down,

With the Champion they took her bloody crown.

Once the costing victory was secured,

He was relieved, though not yet cured.

 

Fierce, he struck down many by his lance

And couldn’t wash the red blood from his hands.

The battle won, yet without winner, 

He became a penitent sinner.

 

He pledged his service to an order reborn,

Day and night he works, but remains forlorn.

Justly he earns respect and his soldiers’ loyalty,

He becomes obsessed by his vital, new duty. 

 

He desires to be cleaned by battle fire,

Devout, he shields others in need dire.

Holding steady, he welcomes the sharpest pain

For he gave up the poisonous shimmery, blue vein.

 

Devoured by colorful memories of a dearest friend,

His heart beats and begins to mend.

For she provided comfort in his darkest hour,

In his eyes she is a rare and fragrant flower.

 

She set him on the path to rise from shame,

waking potent hunger he chose to tame.

With a battle looming above his head,

Gladly, he would die in her stead.

 

Despite the cruel fate that forced her to leave his side,

He hears her words leading his prayers before each fight.

Reconciled, the solemn, kneeling knight rises,

The memento of her warded off this ominous crisis.

 

As a soothing chant, her sweet voice echoed in his peaceful mind,

He prays that upon turning he would find her standing behind.

Fresh, delicate flowers at Andraste’s feet are laid,

And he bows his head, resigned for her to wait.

 

She is his fate, his precious treasure,

In her he will find peace and pleasure.

He leaves the sheltered shrine to meet the Sun,

His will, bravery and strength matched by none.

  
  
  


  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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